Let's Not Pretend
by bella-sk8er
Summary: Between The Hunger Games and Catching Fire. What might've happened if Katniss had run into Peeta before the victory tour? Would it have made a difference? And would that difference be for the better, or the worse? Better inside. R&R!


**AN: So I was in the mood to write something (since I haven't written in forever) and realized that I've never written for my all-time favourite trilogy, The Hunger Games. Crazy, I know! Well, it's crazy too me.**

**Okay, I've written for other fandoms before, but never for The Hunger Games. Now, I'm pretty happy with how this turned out, except for the ending. But, hopefully, it's not too bad. R&R please! Enjoy! :)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own The Hunger Games, don't own Katniss, don't own Peeta.**

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><p>Katniss' POV<p>

The games may be done, but they're never over. Not for me. Not for any of the victors really. Because the games come back, every night in our dreams, and every year in reality. Every year, the victors have been forced to relive the darkest moments of their lives, through someone else's eyes. Haymitch told us as much, and I guess when Peeta and I have to mentor during the next games, the third Quarter Quell, I'll know exactly what he means.

I sigh and roll out of bed. Grab a pair of pants and a long sleeved tunic. Tie my hair back in its signature braid. I then grab a bag, run downstairs, fill it with as much food as I possibly can, and set off to deliver my daily rounds to everyone who will take the food I have to offer.

On my way out, I catch movement coming from the corner of my eyes. I don't have to turn my head to tell that it's Peeta. I can tell by how loud he walks. I quickly turn around, and see him do the same thing. I see the pain in his eyes before he has the chance to hide it. Then he starts to walk away. Luckily for me, and unluckily for him, I'm a fast sprinter, and his capitol leg slows him down considerably.

"Peeta! Peeta wait!" I shout. He manages to get to the front door of his house in Victor's Village before I catch up with him. I wince as my foot is almost crushed by the door, after putting it there to stop him from closing it. "Peeta, we need to talk."

"There's nothing more to say, Katniss." He says, his voice distant and neutral. "You've already told me everything I need to know before we got back to District 12. It's cool, I understand." He tries to close the door again, but I keep it open and push my way in. Peeta offers little resistance.

"Peeta, I'm sorry." I start. I don't know how to continue. Peeta is the one who's good with words. Not me. I never have been. "I shouldn't have lied to you. Sometimes, I didn't even know if I was acting or not, and I thought you were acting and." Peeta cuts me off before I can finish.

"You knew, Katniss." He whispers, tears in his eyes. "Deep down, you knew I loved you." The way he says loved, in the past tense, it makes me cringe a little bit. I want to tell him why I don't like him using the past tense, but I can't, because I don't know myself. I stare Peeta in the eyes as he tries to hold back tears. I can't stop myself; I lean in and kiss him. He's resistant at first, but slowly starts to return it. His hands wrap around my waist, while I drop my bag and throw my arms around his shoulders. We both deepen the kiss. I feel that feeling, the one I've only ever felt once before. Before I know it, Peeta pulls away.

"Let's not." Peeta says, eyes tearing up again, picking up my bag, flinging it to me, then backing away.

"Not what, Peeta?" I ask, flashing back to a conversation we once had, where the roles were reversed.

"Let's not pretend when we don't have too." By now, he's halfway up the stairs. He stops walking to look down at me. "Just leave. Please." He turns around, and walks away. I stay until he's out of sight. Then I turn around and leave. I sling my pack onto my shoulder, and silently close the door behind me. For the first time in a while, I have to bring my hands up to my eyes, and wipe away the tears. I take one last look back up at the house, and I swear I see a curtain flutter. I wipe away more tears, until I have enough control to stop them. I secure the backpack, and walk away from Peeta's house, hating that I have to remind myself every other step not to look back.


End file.
